


Mercy

by Pininfarina



Series: Birds of a feather [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Rival Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pininfarina/pseuds/Pininfarina
Summary: The dreaded morning-after isn't so bad, after all. A follow-up piece to Absolution.





	

Winter's first impression of wakefulness was that of a pounding headache. Her second was the warmth of a body next to her. Confusion muddled with mild panic rose in her chest and she sat up, immediately regretting this as her headache flared. Her bed companion shifted away from her movement, burying his face in his pillow. His black hair was messy and unkempt from sleep, his bare back sloping gracefully to where the bedsheets hugged his hips.

Winter felt her blood go cold. She swiftly exited the bed and scrambled for her clothing, which was thrown all across the hotel room. Her hips and thighs ached from exerting previously unused muscles the night before.

She picked up her discarded underwear from the foot of the bed and held it up for inspection. It was absolutely not suitable to wear, soiled as it was from the previous night's sins. She bunched it up with a deep sigh, stuffing it into a bundle with her wrinkled uniform.

She circled the bed towards the door so she could shower and wash what felt like filth off of her body. Looking down, she saw sticky white slime coating her inner thighs, kept moist by virtue of having not dripped down until she had stood upright. Fighting the urge to vomit, Winter hurried towards the bathroom, turning the tap as hot as it would go and then glaring at herself in the mirror while the water heated.

Her neck and collar were littered with small bruises, her ribs red with angry scratches. She gingerly touched one of the marks, only to find the skin tender and swollen.

Looking further down her body, she saw the distinct bruises on her hips from where Qrow's fingers had gripped her during the final moments of their encounter. There was no denying what she had allowed to happen last night.

Winter felt dirty. At twenty five years old she finally caved to carnal desire, and at the hands of someone for whom she had such complicated feelings, not just a few of which were hostile. She shook her head violently and got in the shower, hoping the scalding water would burn her shame away.

* * *

 Qrow woke up alone, feeling about as hung over as was normal. Today was far from normal though, he remembered quickly.

He sat up and looked around for Winter, finding nothing but a rumpled spot where she'd slept and a pile of clothes on the floor. A moment passed before he became aware of the shower running.

_Good,_ he thought to himself. _She didn't run off just yet._ He stood up and went to the bathroom. She hadn't locked the door, so he let himself in.

“Winter,” he called softly. No response. Qrow pulled back the shower curtain and let out a low curse. Winter sat curled up under the stream, head pressed into her knees, her long snowy hair turned silver by the water and plastered all over her face and arms. Her shoulders were shaking slightly.

“Winter?”

She raised her head slightly, not enough to reveal her face. From over the water, he heard her speak. “Go away, Qrow.”

He frowned and sat down on the side of the tub. “Are you okay?”

Her head snapped up and their eyes met. Hers were full of hurt and anger, their usual blue dulled by the swollen redness that crying brought. Her entire face was flushed, her mouth set in a grimace that looked painful to maintain.

“I said go away! You are invading my privacy.” She dropped her face back to her lap, not even bothering to enforce her demand.

Qrow bit back a joke about invading privacy and shifted a bit closer, putting a rough hand on her wet shoulder. She cringed at the contact but did not push him away.

“Winter, please. Did I hurt you?” She shook her head, sending cascades of water down her arms.

“Do you regret having sex with me?” _Best to be direct_. Again, she shook her head, but this time she looked up at him, eyes still full of tears.

“No,” she mumbled. “No, I...it's not...it's not regret. It's”—she struggled for the word—“it’s shame.”

“What's the difference?” She sat up a little, taking care to maintain her modesty.

“I-I wanted it last night. I wanted to have...sex, with you. I've never experienced wanting like that. It's not the way I was raised, you understand. I don't regret that it was you. I just feel ashamed that it happened at all.” She wiped her eyes and laughed humorlessly. “And I was completely drunk too. Two mistakes in one I suppose.”

Qrow winced at her choice of words, but set his feelings aside. “Can I come in?” She looked at him blankly for a long moment, and then nodded. He stepped over her and sat down, laying his forehead between her shoulder blades. She stiffened at the contact, so he slid his hands around her waist, pulling her into a reassuring embrace. Her body quivered slightly as she fought to keep her composure.

They sat there for quite some time, Winter struggling to calm herself and Qrow pressing tender kisses to her shoulders and neck while his left hand idly stroked her soft stomach.

When finally her breaths came deeper, Qrow asked, “Are you going to be okay with this?” She turned in his arms to look at him, her face slowly returning to its usual pale complexion.

“I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?”

Qrow sighed. “I’m sorry. I got caught up last night. I knew you were too drunk to really be rational and I let things get out of hand. It’s just been such a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and longer since it was someone I actually wanted to be with.” The moment these words came out his mouth, Winter tensed.

“Are you suggesting that you want to be with me?” She somehow managed to look baffled and irritated at the same time.

Qrow laughed nervously. “I mean, I’ve wanted to get you in bed since I first met you but I never thought I might want anything more than that. Yet here we are, sitting together in a hotel bath tub talking it out like adults.” Winter didn’t reply, instead lapsing into contemplative silence.

A few long moments passed before she spoke again. “You said you got carried away last night, but as I recall, I was the one who instigated.”

“You did kiss me first,” Qrow agreed, “but I was far less drunk than you were. I had better judgment and I chose to ignore it because I wanted you so badly.”

Winter’s face tinged with pink at these words, and she looked away, her eyes landing on Qrow’s naked body. She blushed a deeper shade and turned away, but not before a burst of heat flushed in her stomach at the memory of him grasping her hips as he pushed himself inside her. She bit her lip as she remembered how it felt to have him between her thighs. The alcohol may have clouded her judgment, but it hadn’t dulled the sensations she’d felt, nor had it blunted the memory thereof.

“Was it worth it?” Her tone was soft, genuinely curious, without any hint of spite.

“Was what worth it?”

“Me. Was I worth the time? Or was it disappointing?”

Qrow’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She didn’t see his reaction, however, because she was looking pointedly at her knees. He reached out and traced her delicate jawline with his fingertips, tugging gently until she looked him in the eyes. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek.

“You didn’t disappoint me,” he murmured into her ear, enjoying that she shivered when his breath grazed her skin.

“Okay,” she whispered back. “This is all just very unfamiliar to me. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay. Everyone has to start somewhere. But you don’t need to worry; you’re pretty good in bed.” Qrow chuckled and Winter snorted derisively.

“I didn’t _do_ anything. You did all the work. I don’t even know what to do.”

“You moved in all the right ways. Your rhythm was perfect. And don’t worry about knowing what to do,” Qrow purred. “I can teach you what I like.” Winter shifted, her breath catching in her throat. Sensing an advantage, Qrow trailed his fingertips up her thigh, teasing them over her lower stomach and then sliding his palm up to her exposed breasts. She inhaled sharply as his thumb grazed her nipple, surprised by how sensitive it was to his touch.

“Why don’t we get out of the shower,” Qrow suggested slyly.

Somewhat breathlessly, Winter agreed.

* * *

 

Her back hit the mattress hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, but she ignored this in favor of not breaking the kiss. Qrow’s hands were on her chest, skimming over her nipples just lightly enough that it drove her insane.

Less than twelve hours ago, she had no idea this was a feeling she would crave so badly. But here, with her legs spread and a whine growing in the back of her throat, she had no doubt that she would be coming back to him over and over again.

Qrow eased away from her, pulling her waist so that she was just at the edge of the mattress, before slipping onto the floor. She watched with confusion until he began to kiss her thighs and hips, lavishing her sensitive skin with feathery touches. His mouth trailed all across her lower body, kissing here and sucking there, until Winter abandoned all hope of remaining dignified. His mouth felt so good that she couldn’t help but cry out softly each time his lips brushed her skin.

And then suddenly, his tongue dipped into her core, sliding slowly and agonizingly lightly, sending a shockwave of sensation up her spine. She gasped, her heartrate skyrocketing as he found her most sensitive spots. He worked steadily, tirelessly, gripping Winter’s hips and digging his fingers into her skin, groaning in the back of his throat when her nails raked across his scalp, searching for hair to tug on.

Just as Winter felt an unbearable white-hot restlessness growing in her hips, Qrow pulled back, a smirk on his lips. He crawled onto the bed until his was hovering over her. They shared a drawn-out look, her eyes full of anguish and desire, his of devilish mischief.

Without breaking eye contact, he slipped his hand past her waist and slid his fingers inside her. She broke her gaze first, dropping her head back and practically whimpering with frustration and pleasure. A moment later, his hand was no longer between her thighs. She glared up at him, annoyed and upset, but he only smirked in response. And then he was pushing his fingers into her mouth, the same ones that had been inside of her. She was tasting herself on his skin and after a moment of revulsion, she saw Qrow’s expression and stopped caring how disgusting what they were doing was. All of it was disgusting, really, but Qrow made it feel so good, so she couldn’t find it inside herself to care.

“Qrow,” Winter gasped when he finally trailed his fingers back down her stomach.

“Winter,” he replied softly. A thrill shot through her spine at the sound of his voice saying her name.

“I want…” She stopped, unsure what exactly she did want. Or rather, how to phrase it politely. Qrow waited patiently, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her inner thigh, making her thoughts difficult to process.

“I want…you.”

“You already have me, Ice Queen.”

“You know what I mean, Qrow! Don’t call me that, I”—she stuttered when his fingers slid teasingly inside—“I don’t like it when”—another gasp—“you c-call me that.”

Ignoring her last statement, Qrow growled, “Why don’t you show me what you mean when you say you want me?”

Winter’s already-flushed face somehow deepened to an even darker shade of scarlet as she stammered something unintelligible.

“Come on, I’m not going to let anything hurt. I promise.” He caught her eye and smiled reassuringly.

Winter nodded and stammered out, “O-okay.” With shaky hands she pushed herself up and pressed her palms into his shoulders, urging him to lie flat on his back. Qrow’s eyes widened in surprise but he made no attempt to stop her, instead shimmying up the mattress a little so he had a foothold on the bedframe.

Nervously, Winter lowered herself onto his hips, sucking her breath tightly through her teeth as he used his hands to guide her down. Fully in, Qrow let out a hissing moan, reaching to seize Winter’s hips and direct her movements.

“Qrow-I…you feel so much bigger like this, I—ah!” Her sentence punctuated with a cry as he pushed his hips up, feeling her beginning to tense around him. He thrust again, painstakingly slowly, forcing Winter to move much slower than she wanted to, knowing that if he went too fast right now it would hurt her.

As it were, his drawn out movements allowed Winter to feel his entire length. Despite the slow tempo, she was beginning to grow hot all over. The agonizing slowness allowed for her to experience every last centimeter of Qrow inside her, and she found herself breathlessly crying out his name with each careful thrust of his hips. Within seconds her head was thrown back as she begged him to go faster, to go deeper, and to please not stop.

Qrow propped himself on one elbow and increased his pace, feeling his own orgasm building. This time, Winter’s climax hit hard and fast, and she stopped the moment it passed, her legs trembling from the effort of bearing her own weight. Qrow’s pulse was slamming through his groin, his release ebbing out of reach. With a frustrated sigh, he reached his free hand up and pulled Winter’s face to his own, kissing her roughly. She moaned a little, slipping her tongue between his lips and instinctively grinding her hips on his, realizing as she did so that Qrow was still inside her.

Before she could think much further, Qrow had her on her back once more, pushing deeper and panting from the effort of maintaining their position just so. She felt the now-familiar heat growing in her hips, the one that indicated an orgasm on her horizon. Loathe to miss out on another climax, she hooked one leg over Qrow’s shoulder and pushed back against his thrusts, feeling the hot pleasure spreading across her spine.

They came together this time, both unleashing drawn-out cries of pleasure as their orgasms peaked and then faded. Breathing heavily, Winter pulled him into a deep kiss, the lack of oxygen in her lungs making her dizzy. She twined her fingers into his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a low groan.

When at last the tingling heat in her body subsided, Winter broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

“Winter?” She felt another thrill at hearing her name spoken in this context, his voice deep and slightly raspy from exertion.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like when I say your name?” Winter opened her eyes to find him looking at her intently. She felt heat begin to crawl up her neck.

“Excuse me?”

Qrow huffed slightly. “Answer the question.”

She shot him a look before answering, choosing her words with care. “Nobody ever calls me that.” He raised a curious eyebrow. “You have to understand, in my childhood I was a Schnee first, and Winter second, if ever. I was one of two, in a long line of Schnees who all look and are expected to be the same. I was not Winter, I was Winter _Schnee_ , and that’s all anyone ever thought of me. I joined the military to escape the family legacy, hoping to create a name for myself. Instead, I was stripped of my entire identity. Even as a Special Operative, I am just a name, just Schnee. Whereas before the name carried the weight of all my family's pride, now, in the military, it means nothing at all.

“It's not what I wanted. I wanted to make an honorable reputation for myself, to get out from under my father's, and I'm still just a Schnee. I have never heard anyone use my first name with any sort of meaning, except my sister of course but that’s beside the point. It’s different. I like it.”

Qrow reached out and placed a hand on her forearm. He rubbed his thumb over the delicate skin and remained silent, his expression thoughtful. Winter sighed and closed her eyes, almost wishing she hadn't said so much.

After a long minute, he spoke. “I see.” That certainly wasn’t the response Winter was expecting. She opened her eyes to see him gazing contemplatively into space.

“You see?”

He shrugged. “It makes sense. And I suspect your sister may feel the same way about being a huntress that you did about being in the military.”

This gave Winter pause. “Why’s that?”

“Well,” he said, a slight smirk ghosting across his lips, “it would certainly explain the way she looks at my niece.”

Qrow wore a fine red handprint on his cheek for the rest of the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this, almost completely finished, just sitting in my RWBY fics folder. I figured I'd dust it off a little bit and post it so it stops staring at me every time I open a new document. I wanted to explain to anyone who was confused about why Winter likes when Qrow says her name. It's definitely not my best work and it took less than ten minutes of editing to realize that I'd abandoned it because I didn't know how to finish it. So I apologize for the weak ending, but I can't deal with this fic hanging over my head anymore.  
> Hope you enjoy it, regardless. Let me know if you have any thoughts. :)


End file.
